An Internal War
by Dino724
Summary: She moved to Starling City to start over, forget her past, and move on; but it seems like Allison is just a magnet for trouble. Becoming the roommate to a police detective's daughter, accidentally discovering secrets that are supposed to remain unknown, and slowly falling for one of the city's biggest playboys. Allison's life is going to be anything but relaxing. ON HIATUS.
1. Arrival

**A/N: So this is my first Arrow fic. The main character is an OC and isn't from the show or comics. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I in no way own Arrow. The whole the belongs to the CW network and the writers. Most characters belong to DC comics.**

* * *

AN INTERNAL WAR

_By Dino724_

**Chapter One: Arrival**

I stared intently out of the small, oval window with my chin propped up on the palm of my left hand, a cracked Styrofoam cup filled with cold, black coffee clutched in my right. A small sigh escaped my chapped lips as my eyes followed a bird as it soared over the wing of the plane and then disappeared underneath a thick layer of clouds. By now, I had long lost count of how many minutes had passed by since the initial departure time and had instead settled on trying to catch some shut-eye before we landed.

That, however, was a futile goal; if I could barely manage to get a few solid hours' worth of rest when at home, I sure as hell wasn't going to get any when I was being crammed into a stiff coach seat that refused to recline an inch back. At least I had the window.

The plane began to shake slightly as we experienced the third wave of minor turbulence within the last two hours; everyone else around seemed to pay no attention to the tremors, but I, on the other hand, breathed in sharply and grasped onto the seat's armrest till my knuckles turned white. I so should have taken the train.

Next to me, a woman who had been nothing but rude to me the entire duration of our flight, glared at me and rolled her eyes when I caught her looking. With a 'hmpf,' the woman – who was starting to ooze her way onto my seat due to her…large body mass – returned to her reading of the most recent addition of some pop-culture magazine.

Deciding that it would be best to not start a scene by getting angry with the woman, I took a deep breath and looked back out the window. At this point, the plane dropped just enough so that we were slicing right through the surface of the graying clouds; through the top half of my window, a baby blue sky shined with optimism, but directly below, I was staring into the bleak nothingness of the smoky vapors. It was like opposites meeting and creating a perfectly thin line in the middle where light met dark. If I was a poet or writer, I probably could have written a book on that one image or something…

With boredom taking over, I began digging through the small vinyl pouch – where the flight attendants placed magazines filled with toys and inventions that everyone wanted but would never really use – on the back of the seat in front of me. I pulled out a plain black, hardcover sketchbook and pencil that I had stashed there earlier in the flight.

Flipping the cover open, I began to turn through the pages and scan over all of my past sketches: An old, wilting sycamore tree; a still life of a fruit bowl; the scrappy looking dog with only three legs that I saw in a park; attempts of a stone large manor; a boy with dark hair and light eyes…

Tears started to swell in my eyes before I realized it and quickly, I flipped the page and kept going until I reached a fresh, starch white sheet that had yet to be tarnished by my varying grey pencils. I took another sip of my coffee and wiped a stray tear off of my cheek that somehow managed to escape. _You're__ alright. Everything's going to be alright… He's alright…_

Taking the pencil in my left hand, I began to sketch. I hardly thought or blinked as I let the pencil guide my hand across the page. Lines swept in and across, up and down; a fine stroke with the tip for detail and bold lines were created for emphasis. With no desired goal in mind, I let the pencil do all the work.

By the time I was done, at least four more pages were filled with whatever the subconscious of my mind wished for me to convey onto the paper, and another hour and a half was killed. With a smile of satisfaction, I placed the sketchbook and pencils back into the pouch in front of me and swirled my coffee around in my hand, hoping that maybe the heat from my palms would somehow warm it up again.

I don't exactly know when or how art came into my life, but since it did, I'd been nothing short of passionate for it. I was definitely no art expert by any means and probably couldn't name five famous artists if I tried, but I didn't see how knowing art history had anything to do with actually creating artwork. Sketching had become a huge hobby and lifestyle of mine, and I was rarely seen without my handy sketchbook and a pencil. Paints were great as well, but I found them to be risky; so unforgiving, but so delicate and special.

With all those thoughts of art whirling around in my head, I couldn't help but begin to think of what things would be like once I made my new home. I could finally live in a place where I didn't have to worry about having all my belongings stolen each night; and maybe at nighttime, I would actually be able to see the stars, not just the gross city smog. The more and more I imagined what things were going to be like for me in my immediate future, the more fear started to creep its way up into the front of my brain and seep out into the depths of my mind.

Then at that moment, a lightning bolt of insecurity struck me and I started to see tunnel vision with only one possible outcome: failure. Nerves began to eat away at me from the inside out, demolishing all joyous thoughts I was maintaining only moments prior. My stomach felt as though it was churning slowly inside of me, filling my body and mind with hesitancy and I could feel an empty pit of anxieties root itself right in the middle. _Dear lord, what was I getting myself into?_ Doubt plagued my mind as I started to think that getting on the plane had been a stupid decision.

Going to a city I had never visited and only read about, renting an apartment that could be filled with cockroaches for all I knew, and attempting to make a living as an artist? Why, that all just seemed crazy! All of it was so irrational! The decision to move across the continent impulsive… and maybe that's why I loved it so much. Maybe a little irrationality was exactly what I needed in my life.

Chugging down the rest of my stale coffee to extinguish the last of my qualms, I leaned back in my chair and let my head rest on my shoulder. Maybe if I tried hard enough… just maybe… I could get a _little _nap in. After all, I didn't want to look like some homeless person walking around with bags under my eyes once I got off the plane.

Yeah, I thought, sleep does sound good…

…

…

_The woman was running down the side alley – a supposed short-cut – as fast as she could._

_Her heart pounded madly in her chest and adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her breath was coming out in short pants as she powered through the pain her legs were emitting._

_A gunshot was fired nearby and the lid to a trashcan right next to the woman flew off the top of the can as it was hit with a bullet; a loud, metallic echo bounced off the grimy brick walls of the alleyway._

_The woman skidded to a stop and held herself in a defensive pose. Her eyes scanned the walls and roofs carefully._

_She held her breath and didn't dare bat a lash as she __listened. _Where are you? _she__ thought._

_A__ loud clap of thunder __from overhead __shook the ground and made the woman slightly jump. Still, her surroundings were silent._

_Too silent…_

…

…

"Attention!" crackled the pilot's voice over the plane's speakers. I gasped and awoke harshly from the sudden loud noise interrupting my sleep; my entire body jolted forward and my head smashed right into the seat in front of me.

"S-sorry," I stammered to the irritated person who sat in front of me, upset from me bumping into his seat. I sat back and let out a small moan while gently rubbing two fingers in small, soothing circles on my forehead. "Ow…" I whined. Yep, that was definitely going to leave a bump.

The pilot continued on with his announcement to the rest of the passengers. "Our descent into Starling City has begun. I ask all of you now to please fold up all trays and put your seats in a forward position. Please buckle up and remain in your seat for our landing. Thank you for flying with Gotham Airlines."

Blinking away the very last traces of drowsiness that remained, I did my best to stretch out my arms within my small personal space without pissing off the woman next to me too much. Letting out a loud yawn, I looked to my wristwatch for the time: 4:52.

Perfect. I still had plenty of time to gather my things and maybe even explore a little.

By the time I officially stepped out of the airport and into the Starling City evening with all my belongings – which consisted of my backpack, a duffle bag, and a rolling suitcase – the sun was beginning to set and a warm breeze billowed in the air, ruffling my hair about. I took in a deep breath of air and excitedly looked around the new city I would soon learn to call home. Compared to where I had previously lived, Starling City was a beautiful ray of sunshine.

Oh yeah, moving here was definitely the right choice.

Placing the duffle bag on the ground, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a scrunched up piece of paper with an address and telephone number that I practically had memorized after reading it so many times. There on the torn piece of scrap paper in my small, cursive scrawl read:

_72 North Herron Road_

_The Giordano Apartment Complex_

_Apartment # 305_

_Telephone Number: (417) 332-8980_

I had found the 'Roommate Wanted' ad on some website a few months back, and since then, the renter and I had exchanged numerous e-mails with details and negotiations. At last, we came to the decision that I would move in sometime around mid-October. We hadn't talked on the phone yet, so I was hoping with all my might that this person wasn't some old man impersonating a twenty-something year old woman, who was smart enough to put an advertisement looking for a roommate on the internet… Well, I guess I would just have to find out.

With a smile, I scrunched up the paper once more and placed it back into my pocket. I took one last deep breath and with a nod of my head, I started my quest to find my new home. Whoever this Laurel Lance was, she better be ready because Allison Kane has officially arrived!

* * *

**A/N: And there you have chapter one! This is my second attempt of a first-person story; I know I have a problem with staying in tense, so constructive criticism is more than welcome! Please, tell me what you think so far in a review!**


	2. A Home Is Made

**A/N: Well here's the second chapter. First off, I'd like to thank every person who added this story to their favorite or alert list, it really means a lot to me. Secondly, thanks to all those who reviewed and left kind words for me to read, they really helped inspire me to keep on writing! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.**

* * *

**Chapter Two: A Home Is Made**

After a mild climb up three flights of stairs and a brisk walk down a freshly painted, narrow hallway that flickered with light from the incandescent bulbs that lined the walls, I nervously stood in front of a plain, wooden door at the very end of the hall. Fastened onto the door, made of glossy gold metal, were the numbers 305. I gulped. _Well, this was it._

I raised my fist to the door and held it less than an inch away, my knuckles lightly brushing against its surface. Why was I so timid? It was just like getting a roommate in college, so why was I so hesitant? Well, maybe it had to do with the fact that my life had no real plan and I really had no clue as to what I was going to do after I moved in. Yeah, that could have been it.

"Just suck it up," I hissed to myself. So quickly, without much more thought, I promptly let my knuckles rap on the door.

I had only just stepped back and pulled my hand away a second before the door of apartment 305 opened. I felt my heart skip a beat; however, the moment I saw that the person answering the door was in fact a woman who appeared to be around my age, I let out a small breath of relief.

The woman – who I was about ninety-eight-percent sure was indeed Laurel Lance – was dressed in a pair of grey pleated suit pants and a cream colored ruffled blouse; her golden brown hair was pulled back into a loose, disheveled bun. She wasn't incredibly tall, but she had a natural beauty to her – the kind of beauty all women aspired to, where they didn't need makeup to look good.

One of her hands tightened around the doorknob while the other clutched at the hem of her blouse. I could practically feel her grey-blue gaze on me, analyzing me. The thing I noticed the most about the woman though, was that she held herself with a sort of attitude that just screamed out 'don't you dare mess with me because I will mess you up.' I seemed to faintly recall receiving an e-mail from Laurel a month or so back telling me she was a legal aid attorney, which explained the somewhat cold demeanor in her appearance.

Realizing that I had yet to say anything, I quickly stuttered out the first thing I could think of. "Uh, hi there…."

_So smooth._

God, after all the hours spent thinking of answers to all the possible questions I might've been asked, I never thought about the actual introduction part of the process. I guess she would just get to see my awkward social tendencies first hand…oh lucky her.

The woman tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brows. "Hi," she replied slowly. "Can I help you?"

_Doh!_ I was such an idiot, I didn't tell her who I was! "Oh, right! Sorry! I-I'm, uh, Allison Kane, your uh…your new roommate…I _think_. I hope I have the right address…" I let my voice trail off slightly until it became silent. I was hoping that Laurel – and my _god_, I was praying that I was standing in front of the right place – would catch on to what I was getting at and start speaking before I made myself look like an even bigger fool.

"Oh!" she gasped suddenly and looked down at my feet where my bags were resting. "Of course, of course. I'm Laurel – though I'm sure you already knew that – but it's nice to meet you," she said and stuck out her hand for me to shake.

"Likewise," I gave her a small nod of my head and shook her hand firmly, relieved that the awkward introductions were finally out of the way.

Laurel took a small step back, but she still blocked the entryway. Behind her, I could see eggshell yellow walls with a large, mahogany bookcase and an impressive amount of books lining its shelves right in the entrance hall. When I looked back at Laurel, the smile on her face faltered slightly and immediately, I tensed up, wondering if I forgot to say something.

As I racked my brain for something else to say, Laurel spoke up in a straightforward tone. "We need to talk about this situation." I was presuming the situation was referring to my moving into the apartment. Of course, so many things were swimming around in my brain that I was oblivious to the obvious somber tones in Laurel's voice.

"Yeah, of course; I mean, I would think that now we're meeting up face-to-face for the first time you'd have some questions. Also, you should know that I really don't feel right with paying the amount you offered, I am completely capable of giving you more money. The last thing I would want is for you to feel as though I'm free-loading off of you," I said with a smile and picked up my duffle bag from the ground.

Laurel looked downward and let out a small sigh. "There are other things I need to tell you about first… why don't you bring your things inside and we can talk once we're both seated?" A little confused, I nodded my head anyway and gathered my things and followed Laurel inside, shutting the door behind me.

From what I initially saw while being led through the apartment, there was a kitchen, living room, and dining room. I assumed that the two shut doors were the bedrooms and that the bathroom was located somewhere I couldn't see. All of the furniture was nice and from what I saw, for the most part, the whole apartment was very clean and well kept. Gently, I placed my baggage in the hallway and followed Laurel into the living room where I took a seat on a burgundy colored couch.

The room smelled of burning candles and warm vanilla, creating a nice, cozy atmosphere. I breathed in the delicate scents and could feel my body relaxing; it truly was a nice home. Laurel sat down across from me on a wicker chair and crossed her legs, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"So besides college, I've never done anything like this before if you couldn't already tell," I chuckled, trying to make small talk.

I sucked at small talk.

Laurel didn't respond to my comment and I internally cringed. I was just making myself look worse and worse by the second. I watched her as she took a deep breath and then looked at me directly in the eyes. "I'm glad to see that you made it here safely after your long flight, but…I'm afraid some complications have come up about this arrangement," she spoke.

Complications? I furrowed my eyebrows. I knew for a fact that today was October the sixteenth, the date we had both agreed on to finally meet. So what was the issue? "Look," I said, trying to sound calm, "if you need another week or something by yourself, I'm totally fine with booking into a motel for a while."

A moment of silence passed and I began to feel anxious. Laurel's face didn't change and still held the somber look to it. My brain began to crank into high gear as I tried to imagine just what was wrong. At last, Laurel spoke up again, as if finally finding the right words to say. "I'm sorry Allison, but I don't think I can have you move in here."

_Oh, you got to be kidding me_, I thought. "H-huh? I mean, okay, I guess I understand if you don't want me to…but can I ask why? Like I said, I am totally able to pay more rent if that's the case. And if you're worried about me being an artist, you should know that I'm not big on paints so there's no need to worry about stains on the carpet. Also, I'm pretty sure I don't snore…"

Laurel shook her head. "No, it has nothing to do with you," she said with a sigh, "well, it sort of does. It's about your safety."

My safety? She was worried about my safety? "And why's that?" I asked, puzzled as to why that would be a problem.

Laurel shifted in her seat and uncrossed her legs, leaning forward just a bit in her chair. "Two weeks ago, three assassins broke into this apartment while I was in it and tried to kill me," she huffed bluntly.

Well, I can't tell you that I was expecting that response. It caught me off guard a little and I did my best to not have my eyes pop out of my head. "My god, are you okay? What happened?"

She nodded her head. "I'm fine, really. Like I said, it was two weeks ago. The assassins were taken care of with some outside assistance and I was just shaken up a bit, but everything is okay now. For about a week, this place was basically a crime scene and I had to stay with a friend till I got the okay to move back in here last Tuesday. The thing is, those assassins were trying to kill me-"

"Because of your job?" I interjected.

"I guess you could say that," she shrugged. "It had to do with the case I was working on at the time. It involved the Chinese Triad and some dirty businessman. Look, what I'm trying to get at here is that I don't know if something like that will happen again, and I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt…or worse, just because they lived with me. I really am sorry, Allison."

It took me a moment to register everything that had just been said to me. "Well, I can see why you'd make such a great attorney," I said. Laurel tilted her head and looked at me, waiting for an elaboration. "You really do care about other people."

A small smile crept onto Laurel's face. "Thanks."

"But you should know that I am capable of taking care of myself. I thank you for your consideration, but if anything, you should have someone to be with you in case something like that ever happened again. You don't deserve to face danger alone," I began to say. "And trust me, I used to live in Blüdhaven; if a home didn't have at least six different locks on the doors, they were sure to get broken into. If I'm correct, I've actually been robbed once and mugged three times as of now. I think I can say I'm used to a little danger in my life."

Laurel looked at me, considering what I had just told her. "Well, I just don't know."

I sighed. "Laurel, I just flew across the country to move in with some stranger whose voice I hadn't heard until now. For all I knew, you could have ended up being an old, crazy guy, or for that matter, this whole set-up could have been a scam for money. But you know what? I put that aside and decided to take the risk. The fact that you're worried about my safety and we've only known each other for less than an hour is stirring, but trust me. If I thought this move would be too dangerous I would've gone to Metropolis instead."

"Metropolis?" Laurel questioned quietly.

I let out a small laugh. "What, did you think that I was going to stay in Blüdhaven? Trust me, whatever this city has, that one has it ten times worse. I think I can handle whatever is thrown at me here."

Laurel bit at her bottom lip and I nervously twiddled with my thumbs, hoping that I made my argument convincing enough for her to let me stay. "Well," she said and slowly began to nod her head, "it looks like you're pretty set on staying here. And as long as you think you'll be okay, I don't have any other real worries..."

"So I can move in?" I asked with a grin.

Laurel looked up and let a smile spread across her face. She nodded. "Definitely."

* * *

**A/N: So what did you think? I think I got a bit lazy about details toward the end, but that may just be me. Also, how's the whole first person thing? I'm just wondering if I'm staying in tense or completely botching things up. And I hope Laurel didn't seem to OOC. **

**So, it's super late now where I'm at and I'm super tired. You can blame any typos on my sleep deprivation (though if I find any when I'm more awake, I'll go back and fix them then.) Well, like the last chapter, leave any remarks, questions, or criticisms in a review! Thanks for reading :)**


	3. Drinks and Keys

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay in updating this, but I had total writers block. I had all of the dialogue done with because I wrote it when I was on a plane, but then adding all the details and stuff was just impossible! Also, this chapter is fairly longer than the previous ones, so tell me what y'all think of the length when you're done. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Drinks and Keys**

_Her heart pounded in her chest like a bass drum._

_Thump-Thump._

_Thump-Thump._

_Thump-Thump._

_Another crack of thunder ripped open the silence that had fallen upon the quiet scene, soon followed by a slither of white lightning. The woman clenched her teeth and held her defensive position._

_Rain began to pour from the sky, drenching everything that was not covered. The woman shivered as her coat became sopping wet._

_After another minute of nothing, the woman decided that it was time for her to move on. She turned on her heels and began to run down the small alleyway once more._

_As she neared the end, a voice screamed out in pain not far from where she stood. It was a voice that she recognized all too well and made her blood run cold. Her heart raced in panic._

_Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump._

_Then, the loud sound of a gunshot pierced through the night and filled the woman's ears._

_The agonized screaming now vanquished._

_The woman shrieked._

"_David!"_

I lazily blinked my eyes open and let them adjust to the darkness that filled my room. Slowly, I sat up and yawned. My bedside clock read out in small neon green numbers 4:12 a.m. I sighed. I guess five hours of sleep was as good as it was going to get for me.

Rolling out of bed, I pulled a moth eaten, cotton robe on over my pajamas and shuffled out of my room. My nose was instantly greeted with a sweet smell that I was not familiar with. Curiously, I made my way to the kitchen, which was empty and dark. Flicking on a small table lamp, the room instantly lit up with the mellow lighting, illuminating the stove where an old, beaten up pot sat. I walked over to the pot and peered down into it and saw a beige-honey colored kind of mush inside.

It didn't look appetizing, but I leaned down slightly and took a small whiff. Mmmmmmm. It was definitely the source of the delicious smell. At that moment, my stomach let out a low growl of protest. So I padded around the kitchen quietly in my slippers until I found a cabinet containing the bowls. Scooping a few heapings of the mush into my bowl, I quickly tasted it.

_Oh. My. God. _I didn't know what I was eating – though my gut instinct was telling me oatmeal, which I had never had before – and it was absolutely fantastic! As I stuffed my face with more of the delicious goodness, I shuffled around the kitchen and stopped when my eyes landed on a neon pink piece of paper that was next to the coffee pot, which was steaming with freshly brewed joe.

I picked up the sticky note and read the neat, cursive scripture:

_Made some coffee and oatmeal, thought you'd like some._

_I had to run to the office early because I forgot some things._

_I won't be off work until 7:00._

_If you need anything, feel free to call: 528-7355_

_Maybe we could get together for dinner later tonight?_

_Welcome to Starling City!_

_-Laurel_

I placed the note down after reading it and stood there, surprised yet impressed; I thought I didn't get enough sleep, but if Laurel got out of the house this early on a normal basis, then she must never sleep. I was hoping that her leaving the house today before the sun was even up was just a one-time thing, because I would just feel terrible if she had to do that every morning.

After finishing my bowl of oatmeal, I set it down in the sink and left the kitchen. I walked back into my room and turned on the overhead lights, where I studied the current layout of my room. Biting my lip with determination, I went over to my duffle bag and dumped all of its contents onto the floor. The night before, Laurel and I stayed up well past eleven o'clock, so when I was showed my room, I didn't bother to get sorted and instead flopped onto my new bed and went to sleep. Well, now that it was a new day and I was as fresh and awake as I was going to get, it was time to unpack.

So, for the rest of the day, I busied myself by making my room into my new home. The bedroom wasn't huge or anything, but it was big enough that the place didn't feel cramped once I finished. I had a full bed pushed up against the far wall, a dresser to store my clothing, a white papasan chair, and a nightstand. On the walls, I put up a lot of my sketches and a few paintings I did. All of my art supplies were scattered around the room. I opened up the small window and smiled. It was perfect; the place was already a mess and felt like home.

By the time the hour hand on the clock struck six, I was finally done and hungry. So with a quick shower and a change of clothes, I decided that I might as well go out and look around the town a little. Besides, I wanted to see what the nightlife was like. So I gathered the necessities and headed out the door. When I closed the door behind me and stood in the hallway aimlessly, I realized that I had forgotten to grab my phone.

Insert elongated sigh here.

With a grunt, I turned back around and wiggled the knob. It didn't budge. "Oh, you have to be kidding me..." Realizing that it was locked, I opened my purse and began to search for the small key Laurel had given me last night. Then I remembered that I left that inside of the apartment too…right next to my phone.

Insert eye roll and face-palm here.

_Damn. _Well, that was just great. I tried the handle once more just for the heck of it, but like before, the knob wouldn't move. I think Laurel had said something about putting in new automatic locks on the door ever since the break in.

"Looks like I'll just have to meet up with Laurel a little later," I told myself as I headed down the hallway towards the elevator shaft.

Monday nights were the nights that most of the stores downtown closed early I suppose, because as I walked down the street, only restaurants and bars were still open. As I passed by the windows of various shops, I glanced through the shiny glass to get an idea of what kinds of things were sold; all of it was mainly normal things that one could find in any other city – except there was one pretty suspicious looking herbal tea shop that I was betting had a "herbal" backroom business going on, but that might have just been me.

Knowing that Laurel still had an hour or so left of work, I decided to check out one of the bars. I didn't want to go bug Laurel while she was still working with my stupidity – because really, who else locks themselves out of their house – so what better way to pass the time than with a few drinks? Coffee may have been my caffeine-energy drink, but a good beer was all I needed to unwind. And it wasn't like I was going to get wasted – because hangovers are by far the worst thing ever – so a beer or two before dinner posed no threat.

As I walked down the street, I took a little time scoping out my various options. Those options were narrowed down into two categories; option one: loud clubs where lines were out the door and music was blasting inside with strobe lights; option two: a simple bar where drunken men were stumbling out the door. I wasn't a real fan of either, so when I saw a small pub called The Cheshire Cat, which looked relatively quiet and simple, I smiled and headed for it.

As I pushed open the heavy, wooden door, a small bell chimed to signal my entrance. The bar was fairly empty and lit with a dim yellow light. Behind the large, oak bar counter, bottles upon bottles of every kind of alcohol imaginable were lined up on shelves for customers to see; the bartender - a rather beefy man with little neck, a snarled frown, and a greasy ponytail - was nonchalantly cleaning the counter with a rag, scanning the room with his black eyes. When he spotted me, he seemed to examine me - most likely recognizing that I wasn't one of his usual customers - and gave me a curt nod to come further in.

The heels of my boots clacked on the wood floor, creating an irritating echo. Feeling the stares of a few people land on me, I subconsciously tugged on the cuffs of my coat to hide my fidgeting fingers. Once I reached the counter, I pulled out one of the red vinyl bar stools and sat down, making sure to fasten the strap of my purse on my shoulder first.

"Whadd'ya want?" asked the bartender in a voice turned hoarse from smoking too many cigarettes in his pastime.

For a second, my mind went blank and I looked up and down the rows of colorful bottles. I looked up at the bartender and saw a slightly irked look on his face because I was taking so long to order, so I blurted out, "Whatever you have on tap."

The bartender didn't say anything before turning around and grabbing a rather large mug from under the counter and went to go fill my order. As he did so, I reached into my purse to dig around for a crumpled up five dollar bill and placed it on the counter. The bartender placed the frothing amber liquid down in front of me and snatched up my money before walking to the other end of the bar to continue his routine cleaning.

I sipped at the beer and immediately scrunched up my face. Pale Ale… Yuck. Well, I guess that's what I get for letting someone else choose my drink. So to help the time fly with a little more ease while I forced myself to finish the beer, I brought out my small sketchbook and began practicing dimensions and shading, using the wall of bottles as my prompt.

I don't know how much time had passed, but the sound of glass hitting wood startled me and brought me back to reality. I looked up to see the bartender placing a martini glass filled with clear liquid, a salted rim, and two olives skewered on a tiny, pink, plastic sword in front of me. I wasn't even through with my beer, why was I being given this? I looked at the drink and then to the bartender. "Uh, I didn't order this."

He rolled his eyes and said, "It's from the fella over in the corner," while walking away.

Taking the martini glass in my hand, I spun around in my chair to face the rest of the bar. In the first corner, a large man in a denim vest and trucker's hat was bobbing his head to nonexistent music and bumbling out incoherent words. The man didn't even appear to be capable of walking in the condition he was in, much less ordering some girly-fru-fru drink; still, I was hoping that it wasn't him.

In the other corner, sitting in a booth, two well-dressed men were talking to one another, taking sips from their own beers. When the one with dark hair spotted me, he grinned a pearly white smile and gave me a small nod. Well, if that wasn't a signal to walk over there, I wasn't sure what was. So with my new drink, I walked away from the counter and over to the corner booth where the two men were watching me.

"Thanks for the drink, but I'm not really an appletini kind of girl," I said when I reached them.

The man who smiled at me said, "That's what I was betting on, so that's why I bought you a vodka. Why don't you sit, I feel bad making you stand." The man gestured to the other side of the table where the second man sat. He looked at me and smiled softly before scooting over to make room.

"Don't worry, we don't bite...much."

With a small laugh, I sat down and took a sip of the vodka. Oh yeah, so much better. "So, can I ask who my two buyers are?"

The first man leaned in a bit and smiled his perfect teeth again. "Tommy Merlyn, pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss..." he trailed off, waiting for me to supply my name.

"Kane. Allison Kane," I nodded and stuck out my hand.

Tommy shook it and then gestured with his head, "And this here is -"

"Oliver Queen," interrupted the second man with the beautiful green eyes. "And I'm perfectly capable of introducing myself. It's nice to meet you."

"Wait, Oliver Queen? As in Oliver-Notorious-Billionaire-Playboy-Queen?" I asked with a little surprise in my voice.

At that, Tommy smirked and laughed, "See, she knows you!"

Oliver rolled his eyes at his friend's comment but then looked back at me. "Yeah, that's me."

A small smile crept onto my face. "Well, what's a billionaire like you-"

Tommy let out a cough and cut me short. "Two," he said between coughs.

"What?"

"Well," Tommy began, "Not trying to sound too self-absorbed or anything, but I'm pretty high in the Starling City ranks as well. Really, Merlyn doesn't ring a bell?"

I shook my head. "Hmm, afraid not," I said. A look of disappointment briefly crossed Tommy's face, but he quickly replaced it with a chipper smile. With a small smirk, I continued talking. "Anyway, what are _two_ rich boys like the two of you doing in a bar like this? Don't they have fancy clubs made just for your folk?"

"It's our little escape bar when we don't want to be bombarded by the ladies," Oliver said with a small wager of his eyebrows. Oh, someone was full of himself.

"Oh, of course," I said with some sarcasm.

Seeing that I wasn't going along with the given reason, Oliver then added, "It's also where Tommy picks up girls."

"Hey!" Tommy whined. The two shared a glance that made me think that they had some sort of telepathic link going on and were communicating through their thoughts.

"Well you two sure make quite the duo," I commented with a sip of vodka.

Tommy gave one last stink eye look to Oliver before looking back to me. "Yeah, well, we try. So Allison, are you new to the city or what?"

I could feel my cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment. "Is it that obvious?" I squeaked.

A devilish look fell onto Tommy's face as he said, "No, it's just I know practically all the girls in the city and have never seen your lovely face before."

"Well aren't you charming. But yeah, I just arrived here yesterday from Blüdhaven. I'm rooming with someone in the southern quarters of the city."

Oliver looked mildly interested at this. "Oh, and why the move?"

I shrugged. "Needed a change of scenery. Also, if you've read any papers, you'd know Blüdhaven isn't the nicest place to live. Anyway, let's not talk boring stuff now, but tell me, do you buy drinks for every girl sitting by herself in a bar?"

"Only the pretty ones," Tommy responded.

I suspiciously raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, why is it that I have this strange little hunch that you chase anything living with two legs and boobs?"

At that comment, Oliver let out a loud laugh and teased, "Wow Tommy, she's got you down. Except, I don't think I've seen you go after Jim yet."

"Oh very funny," Tommy snarled and took a large drink of his beer.

"Jim?" I questioned.

Oliver stuck out his thumb toward the counter across the room. "Mr. Broody behind the bar," he explained.

It took me a moment for me to figure out why "Jim" was referenced before I saw that through the bartender's sweaty grey T-shirt, it was quite obvious that the man was supporting a bit more…weight, in his chest region. I quickly shook my head and blinked away the mind images of Jim without a shirt on that somehow came into my mind… Yeah, don't ask. "I don't think he likes me," I finally said after a moment, wanting the conversation to continue.

Tommy waved his hand and sighed, "Oh don't worry; he hates everyone. Hell, Ollie and I've been coming here for years and he can barely tolerate us." Oliver nodded his head in agreement.

I was ready to keep talking when I caught a glance at the analog clock on the wall. "Oh crap, I should go; I have to go find someone. Do either of you know the quickest way to the legal aid office downtown?"

Both of the men looked at me with slight caution, not quite sure how to respond. "Are you in trouble? You know, legally wise? 'Cause Ollie here has had his fair share of incidents with the law, so I'm sure he can help you out," Tommy offered.

Wanting to make things clear to them that I wasn't having legal issues, I shook my head and put up my hands while saying, "Nah, it's nothing like that. My new roommate works there and I was ditzy enough to forget my key and phone inside our apartment. The front door locks automatically so I couldn't get back in and I don't know if there's a spare hidden somewhere. I just need to catch her before she leaves the office."

Oliver tilted his head slightly and then asked, "Who's your roommate?"

Trying to act all nonchalant – which I had no reason to, but I did anyway – I answered, "Laurel Lance, she's a legal aid." And the moment the words escaped my lips, both men looked at each other with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. I studied both of their faces momentarily, but neither made it clear as to what they were thinking. "Okay…do you guys know her?"

"Yep," they both answered in deadpan unison. Creepy.

I could tell that there was definitely some kind of history between the two of them and Laurel, but it looked like they weren't going to say anything more about it. "Hmm, well I'll leave it at that. But do I need to catch a bus or something?" I asked, changing subjects.

"Just head down Fourth, then left on Lincoln, and a right on Dearden. It's the small white building at the end of the block. It'll take about five minutes to walk from here."

"Cool, thanks. And thanks for the drink; this was fun."

"Any time Miss Kane," Oliver smiled.

To which, Tommy then added in quickly, "And I'm sure we'll be seeing you around."

I quickly finished the last of my drink before standing up and giving the two guys a nod of my head. _Yeah, I don't think I'd mind seeing those two again._ "It was nice meeting you two," I said and walked out of the bar.

* * *

By the time I reached Laurel's workplace, the sky had just turned dark and stars had started to twinkle through the inky blue sky. The office was still packed with people shuffling about with papers in their hands. All were dressed in suit and tie apparel, making me feel like a total black sheep in my ratty jeans and tank top. I then realized that I had no idea where the exact location of Laurel's desk was and I was going to have to ask someone for directions.

Waiting awkwardly in the corner to be out of everyone's way, I watched the passing lawyers and legal aids and what have you, until I saw someone who didn't look too busy. At last, a tall woman with mocha colored skin wearing a black pleated skirt and purple silk blouse moseyed by with papers in her hand. Deciding that she was probably the best chance I had at finding Laurel, I stepped out of my corner right as she passed by me.

"Excuse me, Miss!" I called out.

The woman turned and blinked at me. "Yes, can I help you?"

I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly. I never really thought about how to word my question without sounding too weird. "Uh, yeah, I was just wondering if you could tell me where Laurel Lance is. I need to speak with her."

A warm smile spread across the woman's face. "Well, it just so happens I'm about to go find her. Just follow me," she said and turned on her heels to continue walking. We weaved our way through the narrow halls that were lined with cubicles. Telephones were ringing and voices filled the room. _These people never stop working_, I thought, observing a man furiously scribbling down notes at his desk.

At last, we came to a cubicle at the back of the room near the window,where I could see Laurel typing away at her computer while double checking papers she had scattered about her desk. It didn't seem like she had any issues with multi-tasking; that was for sure. "Hey, Laurel," the woman who led me here said.

Laurel didn't even bother to look up from her work as she said, "Did you get the papers from the printer?"

The woman nodded her head. "Yeah, they're right here," she said, placing the papers she was carrying down on the desk. "I also have someone here who wants to see you."

At that, Laurel turned in her swivel chair and smiled, "Oh! Allison, what are you doing here?"

Thinking about all the possible ways I could word my answer, I figured that there was no way I could make myself not sound like an idiot. So I sucked in my breath and just replied, "Well, being the klutz I am, I kind of locked myself out of the apartment."

In the corner of my eye, I saw the woman who led me here cover her mouth and stifle back a laugh, but she was given a stern glare from Laurel so she quickly walked away. Laurel then turned back to me with an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry; the new locks I had installed can sometimes be a hassle, but you'll get used to them soon enough. Didn't I mention the spare key in the potted plant outside?"

Oh god. She did say there was a spare; I had just totally forgotten and looked in every other place for one. Wow. "…maybe…" I mumbled back, feeling worse about my stupidity.

"Well," Laurel stated, breaking the somewhat awkward silence, "I'm almost done here, and then how 'bout we grab some dinner? I'm starved."

At the mention of food, my stomach roared to life and growled at me, angry that I neglected to feed it earlier today. "That sounds great."

Laurel stood up from her desk and collected a small pile of papers in her hands. "You can just sit down while Joanna and I go run this over to another office," she said. I nodded and let her pass by me before sitting down in her chair as she hurried over to the other side of the room to find Joanna – who I was assuming was the woman who showed me through the office.

Out of curiosity, I began to let my eyes look over the cluttered mess on Laurel's desk, never letting my eyes stray onto one thing long enough to actually read anything. I didn't understand a lot of the titles many of the papers had or what they were for, but they looked official and important. I didn't know why, but looking at everything Laurel was dealing with, how professional it all seemed, it made me feel, I don't know, insignificant in a way.

Here I was, in a brand new city moving in with a legal aid while I myself had no career or job. I wasn't a real artist, I had never had some show or gallery open to show my work I had done, yet I still had a mindset that making art was how I would make a living in my new life in Starling City.

Shaking away those thoughts, my eyes drifted onto a framed photograph next to the computer screen. It was a picture of two girls who looked about the age of twelve, both wearing identical smiles. They were playing in what looked like a backyard on a tire swing. The girl with darker hair was sitting on the tire swing and holding on while the second girl was laughing and pushing her. It was a cute picture.

"Okay, you ready to go?" came Laurel's voice from behind, startling me.

I spun around in her chair and stood, allowing Laurel to pack away the rest of her things. "Yeah," I said. Then, I remembered Tommy and Oliver and how they said they knew Laurel, so I then added on, "Oh! I ran into two guys who said they knew you: Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen. Are you guys friends?"

Laurel fell silent. Had I said something wrong? I watched as her lips pursed, her eyes quickly darting to the picture of the two girls on her desk before they looked back at me. "Listen, I'm just going to say this once because I don't want to seem controlling or anything, but let me just advise you to stay away from those two," she said.

I furrowed my brows. Stay away from them? They seemed perfectly nice to me, even if they were flirting. "Really?" I asked. "They didn't seem bad."

"Yeah, it's all part of their charm. Don't fall for it," she deadpanned.

"O-okay," I said back to her. I was definitely getting the feeling that something bad had happened between the three of them.

Laurel finished packing her bag and her face immediately lit up. "Let's get out of here; I know a great café that should still be open if we hurry," she beamed.

So I followed her out of the office, and as we walked, I made a mental note not to bring up Tommy or Oliver again.

* * *

**A/N: Woo! That was a lot, huh? I know this chapter was a bit dialogue heavy, but like I said before, I was just having some issues with finishing this. I think the word count is around 4,000+….that's a lot. Any who tell me all in a review and thanks for reading!**


	4. Red

**A/N: I'm really sorry about taking forever to update this, I feel really bad; my schedule has just been uber crazy lately with finals and all coming up. I just really want to thank everyone who has been following this story, you guys rock! I've never had this many reviews, likes, or favorites! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well.**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Red**

It was Tuesday afternoon and there was a slight breeze that was just strong enough to keep messing up my hair no matter how many times I brushed it out of my face. I was sitting cross-legged on the grassy lawn in Hyde Park, just a little south of the city. Hyde Park was one of the bigger parks in Starling, with several large lawns, various pathways, forested areas, and even a few play structures where children were running around and having fun. I was seated away from most of the commotion in an attempt to concentrate on my work.

A crackling sounded as I started to draw a simple arch on the paper. _Oh, you gotta be kidding me._ I raised the thin, uncompressed charcoal vine up so that it was eye-level and narrowed my eyes in frustration; there, right in the middle was a crack, splitting the blackened stick into two pieces, the two halves only barely hanging together. _Well, that's useless now._

I let out a groan and threw the now unusable piece of charcoal vine onto the ground, where a few other broken pieces were starting to pile up. Out of all the mediums I could have used, I decided to go with charcoal – I _hated_charcoal! I looked down at the palm of my left hand; a black soot-like substance covered most of the skin and filled all the small lines and crevices. The outer edge of my hand was especially smeared with the dark substance from when it brushed over or rested accidentally on the paper, smudging both my skin and the drawing. But hey, I wanted a challenge and so I got one.

So far, a rough outline of the seaside cliff was sketched out on a thick piece of paper. The reason I chose Hyde Park out of all the others in the city was that it had the most spectacular view; laying right on the city's edge, half of the park went right up to the cliff side, where people could walk by and stare down into the crystalline blue ocean below; in the far off distance, some small islands were just barely visible to the eye. It was a good place for artistic prompts and what have you.

A month had passed since my move to Starling, and I would have to say that I adjusted quite well. Laurel and I had our daily routine down to the point where we didn't ever have to worry about getting in each other's way: I woke up around four in the morning and watched TV quietly till Laurel got up around six; we made our own breakfasts but ate together and talked about whatever, then Laurel would go off to work until around seven-ish, and I would sit around the apartment contemplating life, the universe, and everything else that came into my mind until I got some kind of motivation to do something.

So today, I thought, _hey, why not go to the park?_

As I continued my drawing after pulling out a new charcoal vine from my case, I began to wonder if anyone would actually buy my drawing if I decided to sell it. Was I actually good enough to put my pieces up for sale? Would people really look at them and think, 'I wouldn't mind having that in my living room.'? Or would all the effort that would be put into creating a business be for nothing and all my art be just added to the bottomless pit of people's failed attempts at becoming an artist? The one thing I've noticed a lot, which I really hate, is that usually to become famous in something, you have to already have your name out there somehow. And let's face it, I was a nobody…

"Hey, lady, watch out!" screamed a boyish voice out of nowhere.

I dropped my sketchbook and turned my head just in time to see a neon yellow disk come flying at my face and hit the bridge of my nose straight on. Out of shock, I fell onto my back and immediately clutched my nose.

_Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!_

"Oh shit!" cried a different voice, definitely an older male, "I am so sorry-Roy! What did I tell you about watching where you throw that thing?-Uh, let me help you up!" A pair of hands gripped onto me and helped me lean forward till I was sitting upright again. I winced and squeezed my eyes shut as I suddenly felt lightheaded.

I opened my eyes and was looking at the face of a middle-aged man with bright, orange hair and blue eyes that were filled with concern. "I am so sorry. My nephew, he's only six and has a hard time lis- oh, you're bleeding! Uh, I think I have a tissue or something…"

"It's alright," I said in a nasally voice as I pinched my nose. "It's just a bloody nose, nothing I can't handle." I pulled my hand away from my face and saw that my hand was covered in blood. The charcoal that was on it previously was now mixed with the red creating a dark color. "Uh, I actually might take you up on that tissue offer," I said and the man handed me a white Kleenex that he pulled out of his pocket.

As I tried not to focus on the gross feeling of blood gushing down my face, I saw a small boy come walking up to me and the man looking nervous with his hands held behind his back. The boy looked exactly like the man, with the same blue eyes and fiery red hair; whenever I tried to make eye contact with him, he would quickly divert his gaze to the ground.

"There you are!" said the man, whom I still didn't know the name of, when he too spotted the boy awkwardly standing beside him. "Tell this woman that you're sorry."

The boy, Roy I think was his name, looked up at me for a millisecond and mumbled out as quickly as he could, "Sorry-for-hitting-you-in-the-face-with-my-Frisbee."

The man huffed and rolled his eyes, seeing that that apology would be the best he would get out of the kid. He turned to me with a wary smile. "My name's Jim, by the way."

We both stood up on the lawn and I pulled the tissue away from my nose to see that most of the bleeding had stopped. "I'm Allison. And don't worry about this, I'm perfectly okay. Besides, kids are kids," I said with a small smile.

A look of relief spread across Jim's face. "Thanks." He then looked down at the ground for a moment and frowned. "Your artwork." I too looked down at the spot where I dropped my stuff and saw that drops of blood had splattered onto the paper, ruining the drawing I had started. Well, I wasn't too happy with how that thing was going anyway; this could just give me an excuse to start over.

Jim bent down and picked up the sketchbook to examine it. "Can I?" he asked.

I shrugged and nodded my head. "Go right ahead." I dabbed my finger against my nose and saw that the blood had stopped flowing, which was a relief. I recalled a distant memory of the last time I had a bloody nose; I was about eight years old and thought I was going to die.

An awkward moment passed as silence fell between the three of us as Jim flipped through my art book. I looked at Roy, who was pouting, for a moment. When he caught me looking at him, he stuck out his tongue; and so I, being the mature adult I was, returned the childish action. Roy frowned and turned his head away, pretending to be interested in his toy all of a sudden. I would have then played with something too, but my sketchbook was my toy and it was currently being looked through, so I had to try and busy myself by counting trees.

"Wow," Jim finally said after a few minutes. He closed my book and handed it back to me. "Have you shown these to other people or ever thought about having an open gallery?"

I gave a small laugh and said, "Thanks. In truth, you're the first real person who's seen these. And I think an art gallery is way out of the picture for me, or at least for now. I'm nowhere near good enough."

"Nonsense!" Jim scoffed, waving his hand. "Sure I'm no art critic, but that's some impressive stuff. Maybe it's a little rough in some places, but I'm sure you could become great! Besides, if the rich folk hear about a new artist having a gallery, you'll have viewers without a doubt; an art gallery is like caviar to the rich, they just can't resist. You know what? I actually may know someone who could hook you up with something."

"Really?" I said in disbelief. I think I was still in partial shock that this complete and total stranger actually liked my work.

Jim nodded his head and then began to pat the pockets of his coat. "Uh, I don't have a pen on me and because I don't want to make you feel pressured into doing anything, why don't you take my card and call me if you ever want that contact number."

"Wow, that'd be great! Thanks so much."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular piece of paper. "Of course, it's the least I can do after my nephew nearly broke your nose. Here."

I took the card and looked at it. On the front it said CADMUS- Genetic Engineering. "Cadmus? Is that somewhere in the city?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's a lab facility just north of the Glades. I work as the chief of security there. It's nothing too fancy, but hey, it pays the bills," he replied. Taking a quick glance down at his wristwatch, Jim then said, "Well, we should get going now; it was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, and I'll make sure to give you a call sometime about that number. Bye Roy," I tried being nice to the kid one last time.

"Yeah, whatever," was his response, the little twerp.

Jim placed his hand on Roy's shoulder and they turned to begin walking away. I waited for a few moments to pass before sitting back down on the grass and collecting my things. I had had enough of the outdoors for one day; it was time to get some food and head home.

After I finished eating dinner at my new favorite café on Kent Street, the sky was dark and the full moon was high in the sky. Laurel had told me that she was going out with someone that night – though she refused to tell me who – and so she most likely wasn't going to get back to the apartment until much later tonight, meaning there was no rush for me to return home either. So as I began walking down the street, I looked around for other routes I could take to get home that were different from my normal one.

Eventually, I made my way to the wharfs, which seemed completely abandoned. There was a clear pathway that went along the water's edge. On the other side of the pathway, there were large warehouses. I didn't see any signs or fences to keep me out, so I assumed that anybody could walk through. So, with my hands burrowed in my pockets for warmth, I continued on.

When I was about halfway through, something caught my eye. It was laying half in the shadows and half in the light of the moon. From where I was standing, it looked like a giant lump. Curious, I went over to it to see what it was.

"Oh my god."

It wasn't just a lump of something. It was a body. Sprawled out on the ground, a man with Asian features was clearly unconscious. However, the frightening bit was that in the top portion of both of his calves there were two thin arrows sticking out and a small pool of blood surrounded the lower half of his body. I quickly bent down and placed two fingers on the side of his neck where I checked for a pulse. _Thank god._ He was still alive, just out cold. Quickly I stood up and looked around me. Who had attacked him? And who used bows and arrows?

I decided that the best thing to do would be to call 9-1-1, but the moment I took my cellphone out of my purse, I saw another thing out of the ordinary. A little ways away from the man's hand was a gun. I paused momentarily, truly unsure of what to do. I didn't know what had gone on here and I didn't know what the guy had done to get two arrows to the knee. Wait, what was I talking about? Of course calling 9-1-1 was the right thing to do. It didn't matter if the guy was good or not, he needed help and it wasn't my choice to decide if he got to live or die.

Right as I started dialing the number, I heard a noise and spun on the heels of my feet. Walking out of the shadows was a man; he was Asian as well and had no facial expressions. Maybe he knew the man on the ground.

"I'm calling 9-1-1 right now, do you know this man?" I asked, holding the phone up to my ear.

The man didn't say anything, but kept coming closer and closer. I was starting to get freaked out by the man, and so for every step he took forward, I took one back. This continued for about thirty seconds and then my back hit the side of a warehouse, and still, the man kept coming closer.

"Goodbye," he said in a heavily accented voice. Goodbye? What did he mean by that? Was he leaving? I was about to respond, but the man then reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun, pointing it at me.

"What are you doing? Please don't!" I screamed the moment I saw the gun. What was going on? What did I do wrong? "Please," I begged, "I'll give you my entire backpack, that's everything I have with me, just please don't shoot me!"

My pleading had no effect on him. His face remained cold and blank. I closed my eyes as tears started to trail down my face. My body was shaking and I sobbed silently. I waited for the sound of the trigger pulling and the barrel firing. Just as I thought he was going to shoot, I heard a soft grunt and a thump instead. My eyes hesitantly opened, and I was shocked to see that the man with the gun was now lying on the concrete face-first, an arrow matching the others protruding from his back.

My head snapped upward to look at the top of a warehouse, where I saw a man standing wearing a green costume with a hood covering his face; in his hand was a compound bow and on his back, a quiver filled with arrows. "Get out of here!" he ordered in a deep voice.

I was slightly frozen right then. I wanted to say thank you to him, but I also wanted to run as fast as I could to get the hell away from the place, and I was caught somewhere between the two. Just as I was going to say thank you, gunshots erupted from nowhere, scaring the shit out of me. _I got to get out of here!_ I tried to run forward, but found my jacket to be stuck on the warehouse, caught on a nail. _Screw it._ I immediately stripped myself of the jacket and ran.

People seemed to come out of nowhere, all wielding guns, and were firing them at the hooded man, who was shooting arrows left and right at them all. I ran and hid behind the closest crate to me, curled up into a ball, and covered my ears with my hands to try and block out the blasting sounds of guns firing. _What the hell was going on?_ I momentarily looked up and saw that there appeared to be a straight path that wasn't filled with danger that would get me away from the wharfs. It was probably safer trying to run than staying put like a sitting duck. As I was about to move forward, I felt something hit me, something hard and extremely painful.

Everything around me seemed to slow down to an excruciating pace. The entire left side of my body seemed to be throbbing and my shoulder felt as though it were on fire. All my senses shut off, except my sight, but even then, everything I saw was through an obscure gaze. I stumbled forward and tried to catch myself on the wooden crate, but I only ended up falling to my knees. I looked down at myself and was astonished by how much blood was soaking my shirt and coating my bare arm in a shimmering scarlet red. A stray bullet must have hit me.

Subconsciously, I knew that there was still a firefight going on with the man in the hood and those men, with me smack dab in the middle, but that seemed to be of little to no concern to me. I tried taking a deep breath but found that to only cause more intense pain. Wincing, I took my right hand and pressed it as hard as I could against the wound. If I could add enough pressure, then there was a chance I could stop the bleeding.

_Thump-Thump, Thump-Thump, Thump-Thump._

Who was I kidding? There was no way I would be able to stop the bleeding. Already, I had lost a lot of blood and was surprised I was able to hold myself up in a kneeling position. My pulse radiated through my body, it was consistent, but growing weaker as time passed; and yet, I somehow found the feeling of my heart trying to pump as much blood as it could to the rest of my body…peaceful.

This was it. I was going to die.

"I'm getting you out of here," said a voice. I tried to turn to see who had spoken, but as soon as I did, I lost my balance and fell forward onto the ground. I whimpered out in pain, balling my hands into tight fists and wishing that it would all just end. However, my wish didn't get granted as I felt two arms slide underneath my body and raise me off of the ground. A second later, I could feel wind rush against my face as whoever was carrying me ran.

I opened my eyes that I don't remember shutting and it took me a moment to figure out just who was holding me. Slowly, the blurry image of the man in the hood made its way into my vision. "Y-you," is all I could mutter, which took up a lot more energy than I expected.

Red and blue lights then started to flash in the background and the hooded man's face hardened. The police must have arrived. We came to a halt and I could hear muffled shouting. I don't know what was being said, but my best guess would be that the police weren't talking nicely to the hooded man.

"You sh-should go," I coughed, "thank you." I did my best to smile, but I don't even think my mouth moved.

"You'll be alright; I promise," he breathed, carefully laying my body down on the cool ground. The hooded man then quickly stood up and looked over his shoulder at the approaching police officers before shooting an arrow at a crate which exploded into a grey gas. I could hear the archer's footsteps as he ran away.

And that was all I remembered before everything went black.

* * *

**A/N: This was a bit of a filler chapter, but I promise you, there will be some actual appearances made by Ollie and the others in the next chapter! I realize that there are a lot of mistakes in this chapter tense wise, and I probably should get a beta. So if any of you are one or know of one who may be interested in beta-ing this story, tell me! Also, Jim and Roy's appearance wasn't random and they will come back later on in the story. (For those of you who don't know, that was Jim and Roy Harper, also known as Guardian and Red Arrow/Arsenal/1****st**** Speedy) Well, I hope you liked it and please, make sure to leave a review! Thanks!**


End file.
